


Messrs Mooney and Padfoot

by maraudersimp



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter - Marauders era
Genre: Angst, Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid AU, Established Relationship, F/F, F/M, It Gets Worse, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Mary Loves her boys, Remus Lupin Loves Sirius Black, Remus is Butch, Sirius Black Loves Remus Lupin, Sirius is Sundance, Vario, Wild West Wolfstar, but they're funny so it doesn't really matter, early 1900s, if you've watched the film you know, james is News because I find that funny lmao, they both love Mary, they don't really put labels on their sexuality
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:54:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27918529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maraudersimp/pseuds/maraudersimp
Summary: Wyoming, early 1900s. Messrs Monney and Padfoot are the leaders of a band of outlaws - The Marauders. After a train robbery goes wrong they find themselves on the run with a posse hard on their heels. Their solution... escape to Bolivia.if you haven't seen the film - Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (starring Paul Newman and Robert Redford) - I absolutely recommend it. i re-watched it the other day after a few months and realised the dialogue between Sundance and Butch sounds a lot like how I imagine Remus and Sirius to communicate, and from there my brain just latched onto the idea!
Relationships: Remus Lupin/Marlene McKinnon, Remus Lupin/Mary Macdonald, Sirius Black/Mary Macdonald, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 8
Kudos: 5





	1. a small price to pay for beauty

**Author's Note:**

> this one is going to take a while, I'm essentially re-writing the entire script of this film but I know it's going to be worth it!  
> Kudos and Comments are so much appreciated, they're a real gift to have and I want to know if people are enjoying the story!!  
> happy reading x

**Mr Mooney**

Remus Lupin, known near and far as Mr Mooney, was a tall man of 35. He had striking green eyes and curled light brown hair that sat beneath a small beige bowler hat, but most people, if asked to describe him, would remember him blond. he was exceptionally bright, his sharp tongue often getting him into more trouble than her deserved, and his even sharper mind getting him out of it. He had been all his life a leader of men; but if you asked him, he would be damned if he could tell you why.

It was a mild day. the sun, still blinding in a sky devoid of cloud cover, glared down onto a dusty street as children laughed on porches and horses snorted at mutts running through the town. The steady breeze was the only thing keeping mothers from waving their children into the shade with a petticoat, and men from hiding themselves away in the shadows of a bar. Remus idly made his way round the corner of the town bank, a stocky stone building, his comfortable gait being made all the more placid by his long legs. he stopped by a window and glanced at it, scowling when he noted the heavy iron bars sitting across its frame. 

_They sure know how to give a warm welcome,_ he thought. He removed his hat and fiddled with the lining for a second, debating wether or not he was up for a challenge. 

After a short while he moved toward the window and looked through. His eyes flicked from place to place, probing the building for any weaknesses. the door was made of thick solid metal and guarded by a uniformed man with a gun in his holster. Remus allowed himself to be distracted for a moment by the stack of paper money being counted by the skilled fingers of a teller sitting opposite the guard. returning to the task at hand, Remus noted that high up on one wall was another window. it was, if anything, more heavily and magnificently barred than the first.

Remus huffed and looked out to the hills, this was not going to be easy.

"ah hell, I've come this far." he muttered to himself, smirking slightly at the memory of that paper stack, and continued his examination.

behind shining bars sat a massive safe, it's door was the kind that had a time lock. Remus's expert eyes flicked around the room once more before he started to walk around the outside the bank perimeter yet again. Of course he wasn't happy, this was supposed to be an easy procedure.

Remus watched as the guard began to slam metal plates into place on the window shutters, the sound rang in his ears, loud and final. Remus walked lightly up the steps and leaned over to the guard. He creased his brow in a delightful imitation of a man deeply concerned.

"what was the matter with that old bank this town used to have?" he asked, "It was beautiful."

the guard turned away from Remus, busying himself with closing the iron bolts on yet another window.

"people kept robbing it." he grumbled, not even bothering to spare another glance.

Remus nodded sincerely before making his way back down the stone steps of the building and onto the street below. He stopped for a second and turned back to face the building again, taking it in. It was new, but butt ugly and squat. it was functional, far too functional for his liking, and it was built like a tank.

"That's a small price to pay for beauty!" he yelled back to the guard, who pretended not to have heard him and instead slammed the heavy door as best he could.

Remus hummed in consideration and turned around again, melting away into the bustle of carriages, brown jackets and petticoats that filed through the town.

**Mr Padfoot**

Sirius Black, known far and wide as Mr Padfoot, was a short man of 36, although you’d be hard pushed to comment on his height on account of his hot-headed demeanour. He had long dark hair that fell in thick curls down to his shoulders, and his piercing grey eyes often deepened the shadows that sat under his well-formed cheekbones. He wore his expertly groomed moustache with pride, he also wore the finest dark suits and hats his money could buy. 

He was currently seated at a table with two other men at Macon’s Saloon, dealing his hand at a game of blackjack. The saloon was a barn of a place; what it lacked in decoration it made up for in grime. It was mostly empty now and the sun cast deep rays of light through the shuttered windows, resting on the empty tables with their games set up for play, chips and cards neatly placed. 

Sirius was dealing to a pasty man who went by the name of Lucius Malfoy. He was a slimy character who had no shortage of dirty habits ranging from spitting on the floor instead of a bucket whenever he chewed tobacco, to being a cheat at blackjack, and a terrible one at that. 

“Hit me.” said Malfoy, shooting a yellowed glob of spittle to the floor.

Sirius wrinkled his nose in distaste and flicked his card. In his opinion, if you’re going to cheat badly at a game you may as well not play at all.

“Over.” Malfoy supplied, pushing back from the table with a dark grimace. He hesitated and turned to the third man, saying “Gimme credit, Mr Riddle?”. It’s almost pitiful, thought Sirius.

Tom Riddle was a well-dressed, good-looking man. He was not yet thirty, and gave the strong impression of power and maturity; someone who has come a long way through a tough world (and come fast). Everything he did or said was cool and calculated and delivered with a sneer that sent a chill through the bones of men foolish enough to challenge him. Unless those men went by the name of Padfoot, that fool in particular never seemed to feel anything more than malice towards Mr Riddle. And he was full of it right about now.

“You know my rules, Lucius.” Said Tom, shaking his head lightly. He turned smoothly to face Sirius. “You just about cleaned everybody, fella… I don’t think you lost since you got the deal,”.

Sirius said nothing, he simply stared back at Riddle with a barely concealed smirk. Today had been a good day, and winning such a full bounty at a game he’d never had the nerve to cheat at had set him on a high. Screwing over Malfoy and Riddle at their own game may have also had something to do with his good mood.

“What’s the secret of your success?” asked Riddle. He sounded suspicious, and Sirius could practically see the accusation of _cheat_ swirling round in the other man’s pale blue eyes.

“Prayer.” he answered simply. He wasn’t in the mood for small talk.

Riddle’s eyes turned even more icy, if that were even possible, and Sirius readied himself for a brawl.

“Let’s just you and me play,” said Riddle without an ounce of emotion.

Sirius nodded, anticipation pooling in his stomach. This wasn’t going to end well. He started dealing quickly, the game moving along fast from the get go and Riddle was winning. 

“Hit me,” Riddle demanded, and received another card, “again,” Sirius sent another his way, “too much.” he finished. Sirius kept his face blank as he started to take the money. Riddle smiled and tilted his head, Sirius didn’t dare look up but he could see it out of the corner of his eye.

“You’re what’s too much, fella.” Riddle spoke clearly but not without that bite, his tone never lost that edge, “whatever it is you’re doing.” He sat back for a moment and regarded Sirius through narrowed eyes.

“You’re one helluva card player, and I know, because _I’m_ one helluva card player, and I can’t even spot how you’re cheating.”.

There it was. Sirius did his best to ignore what Riddle had just said but inside he was boiling up. Cheating?! Was it so hard to believe he was just that damn good? He continued to carefully stack his winnings into even piles on the countertop as Riddle stood up. From this level Sirius could see Riddle’s hips, which were adorned with two guns in holsters. Riddle’s steady hands were hovering either side of the weapons. He reached one of them over to point at the money.

“That stays, you go.” he said. It was final, like he expected no challenge. 

_Well screw that,_ thought Sirius. _The asshole isn’t about to take my winnings._

“What if I stay?” he asked. He made a point of not looking up, slumping down in his chair and staring at the floor, although it was with great effort he kept his tone factual and without arrogance.

It was then that Mr Mooney decided to tear up through the saloon doors and to the card table, slowing only when he got to standing between Riddle and Sirius.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to @remusluupin on twitter for beta-ing!


	2. invite us to stick around

**Mr Mooney**

“We look a little short of brotherly love around here,” Remus chirped with his hands on his hips, he was still breathing heavy from his run across the floor. _I’m getting slow in my old age_ , he let himself think. Looking around he noted that the place was empty, _thank the stars_ , save for two men and Padfoot. One man, a little older, was standing by the bar looking sorry for himself and not particularly engaged. The other man was younger, but his eyes looked deadly and they were currently staring intently at Padfoot. The young man wasn’t impressed with Remus’s remark and his hands stayed by his guns. 

“You with this garbage?” he asked, “get yourselves out of here.”

At that Remus narrowed his eyes and he turned on Padfoot, who was staring pointedly at the floor. The fool had likely played a little too well, if the stack of paper cash sitting next to him was anything to go by. Acting quickly, Remus pulled at the shoulder of Padfoot’s jacket, practically begging him to take the hint and leave (the stubborn mule did not budge).

“Yessir,” he spoke to the young man. “Thank you sir, we were just on our way and-” 

Padfoot was still not budging. This bugged Remus, who leaned in to him and hissed “Will you come on?”. When Padfoot still did not yield he settled for dropping down, just as Padfoot whispered “I wasn’t cheating.”

 _Lord above! I chose a child for a partner_ , Remus continued to yank on the shorter man’s jacket. 

“ _Move,”_ they were speaking in rushed whispers. 

“I wasn’t cheating,” Padfoot insisted. Remus quietly cursed.

“You can both die,” said Riddle impatiently, breaking the other two men out of their squabble. “No one’s immune. You can _both_ die.”

Remus paled slightly and leaned back into Padfoot.

“You hear that? Now you got him mad at me.”

“If he invites us to stay, then we’ll go,” insisted Padfoot.

“We were gonna leave anyway,” Remus was at his wit’s end, he really was.

“He’s gotta invite us to stick around!” Padfoot was growling slightly then. He was pouting, too, and Remus lost all hope for their survival, thinking for the tenth time that week what a miracle it was that Padfoot hadn’t been six feet under years before they’d met.

“He’ll draw on you,” Remus stated. “He’s ready now and you don’t know how fast he is-”

“That’s just what I wanted to hear,” Padfoot was quick to retaliate.

“Face it, he don’t look like he intends to lose.”

“You’re really building up my confidence.”

“Well I’m over the hill. It can happen to you, every day you get older, that’s the law.” 

Padfoot still didn’t budge, and when Remus finally caught on that we really wasn’t going to he let out a deep sigh. _Fine_ , he thought, _if this asshole wants us to die in Macon’s he can have his way._ Remus steeled himself and stood up to meet the younger man’s gaze.

“What would you think about maybe inviting us to stick around?” he cringed at how ridiculous it sounded.

“What?” said the young man. Remus supposed that was a fair response.

“You don’t have to mean it or anything… but if you’d just please invite us to stick around I promise you we’ll go and-”

The man had clearly had enough. He shut Remus up with the wave of a hand and set his sights back on Padfoot. Remus hesitated a moment, glancing down at Padfoot, then shook his head and backed out of the way. The reality of the debacle was starting to set in, so he figured he may as well offer his other half some reassurance that he’d at least tried.

“Can’t help you, Padfoot.” He spoke softly. 

His last word seemed to echo round the room and the atmosphere shifted from cold to colder. The young man’s eyes widened slightly, his hands twitched by his guns. 

_Hell,_ Remus straightened up with glee as he realised what was happening. _He had no clue._

**Mr Padfoot**

When Mooney said his name, Sirius froze. The genius had done the last thing that could’ve stopped the guy from shooting them on the spot! Sirius had forgotten this whole time that Riddle didn’t know who he was. He made a mental note that he owed Mooney a new shirt, his was getting tatty ‘round the buttons by now. Slowly, Sirius raised his head, eyes dazzling. He looked Riddle dead in the face and started to stand, revealing the guns that sat steadily on his hips.

Riddle, to his credit, was brave. Now knowing who Sirius was, he still held his ground, but you could practically see the flashing headlines of shootouts and robberies rolling through his mind like pistons on a locomotive. Sirius held his gaze, scowling unblinkingly.

“I didn’t know you were Padfoot when I said you were cheating.” Panic seeping through his careful mask.

Sirius said nothing and let his eyes drift down to where Riddle’s hands still hovered close to his guns.

“If I draw you’ll kill me,” said Riddle, the words practically bursting out of him.

Sirius regarded him for a moment and said, “There is that possibility.”

Mooney seemed to take pity on Riddle and, ever the mediator, he moved in on him.

“No sir,” he explained, “you’d just be killing yourself.”. Then, more urgently, “So invite us to stick around, why don’t you?”.

Riddle seemed lost on what to do. He opened his mouth but quickly closed it again, his body looked spring loaded as though he was ready to bolt any second.

“You can do it, easy,” Mooney insisted. “Come on, come on.”

The tension in the air was electric, like a thick fog. Sirius hadn’t let his eyes stray from Riddle for a second the whole time. Eventually Riddle seemed to give in to sense as he spoke, it seemed as though he could barely get the words out.

“Stick around why don’t you?”

The tension broke just as suddenly as it had been created and Mooney audibly huffed in relief, grinning like a cheshire cat. Sirius scooped up his winnings and the pair made their way together along the path of gambling tables toward the door.

“Thanks but we’ve got to be going.” Mooney hollered over his shoulder.

Just before they reached the threshold, Riddle spoke.

“Padfoot?” Mooney and Sirius stopped. “Hey how good are you?”

Neither of them moved, but Sirius could see the tweak of a smirk on Mooney’s lips… _bastard,_ he thought.

“Don’t just stand there, show the man!” Moving fast as lighting, Mooney grabbed some poker chips from a nearby table. He flipped them high and let out a loud laugh. _Double bastard_.

Before even the chips had time to think about what was happening, Sirius dived left and dropped. Long before he’d finished moving his guns were out and roaring, and just as the terrible noise had sounded, it was over.

The chips fell to the floor, one or two of them left untouched through the noise but all of the others, all of them, were shattered on the floor. Riddle breathed the biggest sigh of relief Sirius had ever seen a man breathe. Mooney gestured lamely to one of the few surviving poker chips.

“Like I’ve been telling you,” he quipped. “Over the hill.”

And they were gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you again for @remusluupin on twt for doing beta Xx  
> next chapter soon! let me know what you think please!!


	3. you just keep thinking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Remus and Sirius make their way back to base camp. Remus reflects on the nature of their relationship and Sirius learns what Bolivia is.

**Mr Mooney**

The journey back to The Marauders - the motley gang that had formed easily around Mooney and Padfoot’s various escapades - was long and arduous. It was little over a day and a night to travel there on horseback but it was one the pair had made many times. Besides, the sights were breathtaking. 

As Remus’s steed reached the top of a hill, Padfoot right on his tail, he marvelled at the view. Large clouds were dotted around the wide blue sky; they were white and fluffy, just like clouds ought to be, and they hung there in the sky like giant… well, like giant clouds. They made their way down into a canyon, startling a herd of deer that veered one way, then another, then gone as Padfoot and Remus reached the bottom. It was beginning to get dark, here would be a safe enough place to rest for the night.

The two men silently unrolled their mats. Remus stole a glance at Padfoot as he set up the fire, taking in his handsome features, the way he moved so elegantly like some sort of European prince. He could’ve been a prince before he’d started work, for all Remus knew. They’d been working on jobs together for 6 years but had never bothered to give away any more information than their favourite food. Remus had no clue what Padfoot’s favourite colour was, his greatest fear, his favourite song, nothing. _I don’t even know his name_ , he mused. The fact startled him, which was odd in itself as it had never really bugged him before but now it seemed to be niggling at the back of his skull. Eating away at all of his other thoughts, of which there was no short supply. Padfoot looked up at Remus, saving him from his own damn head, and grinned as he offered him a bowl of god knows what. They ate in silence, then slept lightly for a few hours.

_..oOo.._

In the dim blue haze of early morning, Remus spotted a snake darting its way through the dust, as the men ambled their way through the deep canyon. After the first few rays of light peeked their way over the canyon ridge, Padfoot and Remus started to ascend the impossibly steep edge. They rode slowly in the heat and, to Remus’s utmost amusement, Padfoot had elected to remove his jacket.

“Didn’t realise you’d be giving me a show, Pads.”

“You’re getting a sight that any gal would get flushed just thinking about, Moons. Don’t let it get to your head.” He flashed a smile back at Remus, who was doing his best to feign annoyance but realised he’d probably ended up looking mildly flustered instead.

They rode on for hours, stopping for frustratingly short breaks that were filled with comfortable silence and the occasional good-natured bicker. Eventually they started to pick up pace, Remus was getting jittery at the thought of finally having a bed to lay in, not to mention seeing the others at long last. It had been a week after all. 

“Ahhhh, home.” he sighed as they came to a wide valley framed by cliffs. Occasionally, if you had an eye for it (and he did), you’d be able to spot an armed guard poking their head round the side of one of the caves that were dotted around. One of them signalled to Remus in greeting.

“Y’know,” he said to nobody in particular, “every time I see Hogwarts again it’s like seeing it fresh for the first time.” 

Padfoot came up beside him then, still riding at that steady pace.

“And whenever that happens,” Remus continued, “I ask myself the same question: how can I be so damn stupid as to keep coming back here.”

He loved it to pieces of course but he was bored of the same-ness of the place. Padfoot sighed and looked up to the heavens, he’d heard Remus give this kind of speech before.

“What’s your idea this time?”

“Bolivia!” 

Padfoot gave Remus a look.

“What’s Bolivia?”

It was moments like this that reminded Remus why Padfoot could never have been a prince. One lesson in diplomacy or academy and he would’ve had his educator in tears.

“Bolivia’s a country, stupid. In Central or South America, one or the other.”

“Why don’t we just go to Mexico?”

“‘Cause all they got in Mexico is sweat and they sell plenty of that back here.” He saw Padfoot grumble and turn away, so of course he persisted.

“Now listen: if we’d been in business during the California gold rush, where would we have gone to operate? California, right? Well, when I say Bolivia, you think California because they’re falling into it down there.” Padfoot perked up at that, “silver mines, tin, gold; payrolls so big we’d strain our backs stealing ‘em!” He let himself sit in that thought for a second. Banks ripe for the picking, fat bastards sitting in their offices practically begging to be robbed.

Padfoot snorted and gave Remus another smirk.

“You just keep thinking, Moons; that’s what you’re good at.” he chuckled through the phrase.

“Jeez, I got vision and the rest of the world wears bifocals.” Remus shot back.

**Mr Padfoot**

Sirius wasn’t particularly taken by the idea of Bolivia, but Mooney’s enthusiasm had sure sparked his interest. The banks around the area were starting to clue in on their methods and Sirius’s short fuse wasn’t coping well with the long stake-outs, come to think of it neither was Mooney’s constantly whirring mind. The guy was a sort of thinking machine, the cogs just never stopped turning, he’d started spouting ideas out all the time now, no matter how whacko. 

Mooney and Sirius soon reached the main camp, which was made up of several small cabins. Outside the cabins were a considerable number of men and horses - The Marauders. The two men rode up to them, Sirius was scanning the place for any imposters but all seemed well. Mooney, however, had focused his attention on James Potter. He was a slender, bespectacled man of thirty-two who had earned himself the nickname ‘Prongs’ on account of his sizable collection of stolen silver cutlery and other useless utensils. 

“Hey, Prongs!” Mooney celled out, waving.

Potter didn’t answer, he seemed to be terribly busy taking care of his horse. This was odd. Potter was so often glad to see the leaders of the gang return from their business. His silence set Sirius on edge. Mooney and Sirius pulled up beside him.

“Prongs, what’re you doing?” Mooney asked.

“Oh, hi Mooney. Nothing, nothing.” Potter looked up suddenly, smiling far too widely for Sirius’s liking.

_ Here we go _ , he thought.

“Hello there, Padfoot.” Potter grimaced, Sirius didn’t react. 

“Sure y’are.” Mooney’s tone was losing some of its friendliness now, “You’re getting ready to do something. What?”

“Just fixing to rob the Union Pacific Flyer, Mooney, that’s all we had in mind.” He didn’t sound happy and his words, when they came, they came fast. 

Sirius didn’t like this temperament on Potter, he was usually so upbeat. Mooney dismounted but Sirius stayed put, watching.

“You got everything I told you wrong,” he made the short walk from his steed, eyes set, not revealing a thing, “when I left I said we  _ might _ hit the Flyer, but even if we did, it wasn’t this run but the one after, the return.” 

Mooney ran a tight ship, Potter respected that. If Potter, who was loyal as anything, wasn’t playing the game then Sirius wasn’t so sure any of the others would be playing along either. He scanned the compound again, the rest of The Marauders had turned around to see what kind of altercation could be happening. Mooney continued, never breaking eye contact, not even for a second.

“Now Padfoot and me been out checking the bank situation and-”

“No banks.” Frank Longbottom’s voice cut through the air.

“What?” Mooney looked around, genuinely confused.

Frank stood in the doorway of one of the cabins. He was a big man, thick and powerful and not particularly handsome. He was, in Sirius’s most expert opinion, a terrible man, viscous and frightening when he wanted to be.

“The Flyer, Mooney.” he spoke steadily but his voice still boomed. Potter was staring intensely at his horse, not daring to engage.

“Now how many times have I told you people,” Mooney looked around at his gang as he spoke and explained, as a good teacher might. “Banks are better than trains. You can rely on a bank, they don’t move. They stay put and you always know there’s money inside and my orders were-”

“New orders been give.” Longbottom moved away from the cabin towards Mooney. Sirius tensed.

“Frank, I run things here.”

“Use to you did. Me now.” He pointed suddenly at Sirius. 

“This don’t concern you.”

Sirius glared down at Longbottom, but made no move to object. Mooney was perfectly capable of taking care of himself. Probably best he stayed out of it anyway as it seemed the rest of the gang had started to view him as some sort of bodyguard to their main leader, which he thought was just plain dumb. 

“Tell him to stay out.” Longbottom rounded on Mooney again.

“He goes his own way, like always.” he replied.

If Sirius wasn’t mistaken his tone carried a hint of bitterness. Mooney turned suddenly, whirling to face the gang who stood bunched, watching eagerly. He moved towards them, talking as he went.

“What’s the matter with you people?” He seemed to be in a state of mild shock, “before I came here you were starving and you know it. You weren’t even a gang! I  _ formed _ you!” He whirled back and gestured to Potter.

“Prongs, Prongs, read that damn clipping!”

The dark haired man reached into his pockets, “Which one?” he asked. 

Mooney hurried to him. “Any of ‘em.” he rushed.

Potter had taken out a batch of news clippings.

“This here’s from the Salt Lake Herald,” he declared, unfolding the first and beginning to read.

“Mr Mooney’s Wild Bunch struck again today, looting the-”

“That’s enough right there. ‘Mr Mooney’s Wild Bunch’, hear that? That’s you and that’s me. Frank gonna plan for you all? Frank gonna do your thinking and run things and-”

He turned back to Potter, who had kept right on reading throughout the speech. Sirius’s lip twitched, Potter never did know just when to shut up.

“Prongs, you can shut up now.” Mooney said tiredly.

Potter looked up at him for a moment.

“Not ‘til I come to the good part.” He started reading away again, “Also known to have participated in the holdup are Messrs Padfoot and Prongs.”

He folded the paper and looked up smugly.

“I just love hearing my name in the papers.” he sounded wistful. 

Any man with an ounce of sense in him would have stopped reading there, but Potter soldiered on as Mooney spoke with raised volume to cover the drone.

“Now let’s just forget about Harvey taking over. Okay, Meadowes?” He turned to Dorcas.

She set her jaw and stared up at him.

“You always told us anyone could challenge you-”

“That’s ‘cause I figured nobody’d do it!” he cried. 

Sirius spared a glance at Longbottom. He was smiling a horrible crooked smile, starting towards Mooney again.

“Figured wrong, Moons.”

“You can’t want Frank,” he turned to his men again, sounding a little desperate.

“At least he’s with us, Mooney” Potter piped up, “you been spending a lot of time gone-”

“That’s ‘cause everything’s changing now! It’s all going new on us-”

“Gun or knives, Mooney?”

Sirius quirked an eyebrow. Potter had stopped reading by then, meaning the words rang out across the compound in the silence that had been left. Longbottom was bold as hell, and squared his legs as Mooney went on talking rapidly, obviously doing his best to ignore the other man.

“Everything’s harder than it used to be. You got to plan more, you got to prepare, you got to be damn sure what you’re doing or you’re dead!”

Longbottom took another heavy step forwards and Sirius started to feel a whisper of dread creep its way up the back of his neck.

“Guns or knives?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> New chapter coming soon! Don't forget to tell me what you think ;) Xx


	4. The Flyer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> so what does Mooney choose... guns or knives? and what's all this talk about a train hold up?

**Mr Mooney**

Now Remus had been in his fair share of predicaments, but he felt safe in saying that none had ever turned out quite so sticky as this one. His options were painted plainly in front of him and, although he would never consider himself a coward, pride seemed to be the only thing stopping him from taking the third and most tempting option next to 'guns or knives', known as: run very far away, very quickly, still very much alive.

“Neither” he cried, desperately hoping to wheedle his way out of bloodshed for the second time in a week.

“Pick!”

“I don’t want to shoot with you, Frank.”

Frank smirked, a select few of his crooked teeth poking out from behind his lips as he spoke in a low grumble.  
“Whatever you say, Mooney”

A knife seemed to appear in Longbottom’s hand, glinting angrily in the harsh sunlight. The sudden appearance of such a violent weapon sparked excitement in the marauders that only built as Frank calmly removed his shirt. He was impossibly muscular and alarmingly heavy if Remus had been younger and he may have been able to dodge him easy, but alas his hip (which had been injured during a blackout bar fight with a table many years ago) was too stiff from his recent journey to hold up to such a task.

Remus moved to Padfoot, who had an odd look on his face. If Remus didn’t know any better he’d say Padfoot was doing his best to cover up a desperate need to pass wind, but he did know better, and the energy rolling off the other man in waves could only be described as intense worry.

“Maybe there’s a way to make a profit on this,” said Remus, trying his best to make light of the situation. “bet on Longbottom.”

Padfoot pursed his lips and quirked an eyebrow.

“I would, but who’d bet on you?” he wasn’t joking.

Remus took mild offence at this. He’d rarely needed to prove himself to Padfoot and this sudden lack of confidence in his abilities stung more than he cared to admit.

“I made this gang. You know I did. Now look at ‘em.” he sounded petulant, even to himself.

The Marauders were now clustered around Longbottom and Remus was struck by the unfairness of it all. James was trying his best to blend into the backs of Marlene and Dorcas, who were possibly more intimidating than Frank himself, not daring to make eye contact with Remus or Padfoot on pain of seeing the immense disappointment in their eyes. Longbottom lifted his chin and hollered.

“Padfoot, when we’re done, if he’s dead, you’re welcome to stay!”

The offence Remus took to this could hardly be considered mild. It had also given him an idea, one that had his fingers tingling and his stomach fluttering. If he messed this up it could go bad… real bad.

“Listen I’m not a sore loser or anything, but when we’re done, if I’m dead, kill him.” He said quietly.

“Love to” Padfoot was looking at Longbottom but the smirk plastered on his face couldn’t have more obviously been directed at Remus.

Remus fidgeted for a moment, buying himself time to run over his master plan, then started the long walk back to Frank. Frank was younger, faster, and stronger. Knowing this didn’t make the walk any more pleasant for Remus but he moved forward, unarmed. Frank watched him come, unmoving, his body glistening unfairly in the light. A hand reached out to Remus and he saw it was James, trying to push a knife into his empty hands.

“Not yet,” Remus said, with confidence that surprised even himself. “Not till Frank and me get all the rules straight.”

 _Okay Lupin this is it, the moment of truth._ Frank sounded about as enraged as he looked, Remus had evidently been wearing his patience thinner than he had anticipated.

“Rules? In a knife fight? No rules!”

 _Hah!_ Remus could have yelled with joy, but instead, he took his chance and as Frank finished speaking he delivered what could be considered the most aesthetically exquisite kick to the balls in the history of ball-kicking.  
For a long moment, Frank just stood there. Then he made an absolutely indescribable sound and, as the look on his face moved from disbelief to displeasure, he sunk slowly to his knees.

“Well, if there aren’t going to be any rules,” Remus continued as if nothing whatsoever had happened. “I guess we might as well get this fight started. Somebody say ‘one-two-three-go’”

“One-two-three-go,” Padfoot spoke up like a shot, not even missing half a beat.

Longbottom was green now, and still on his knees. Remus approached, nodded, locked his hands together and, as if swinging a baseball bat, delivered a stunning blow to the giant's jaw. The shock of the blow rattled through Remus’s arms and he staggered back slightly, but he was nowhere near as shaken as Frank who had fallen to the dirt and was currently lying there.

The Marauders hurried over to Remus, who looked over at Padfoot to find the other man in a state of extreme shock and, apparently, amusement. His eyes were wide, his eyebrows raised so far Remus thought he might actually make those wrinkles stick for once, and his mouth had split into a devilishly stunning grin.

“I was sure rooting for you, Butch.” Piped up a voice from beside him, Remus only had to look down to find its owner.

“I know, McKinnon.” he supplied with great earnestness. “That’s what sustained me in my time of trouble.”

“Prongs? Now what’s all this about the Flyer?” he searched the small crowd for a tangled mess of curls, and he didn’t have to search for long.

“Frank said we’d hit ‘em both, this run and the return,” James said, emerging from his hiding place slowly as though approaching a startled horse. “He said no one'd ever done that yet to the Flyer so no matter what we got the first time, they’d be sure to figure the return was safe and load it up with money.”

“Frank thought that up?”

“Yessir, he did.”

Remus pondered this for a few seconds before straightening his back and drawing in the attention of the surrounding crowd.

“Well I’ll tell you something: that’s just what we’ll do.” He crouched down to meet Frank, who was still out cold in the dirt, and slapped his cheeks.

“Good thinking, Longbottom”

**Mr Padfoot**

The sun hung low in the sky, casting spiky shadows across the side hill that Sirius was perched on. He’d been waiting there for about twenty minutes, not nearly enough time to psyche himself up for the absolutely insane task that Mooney had given him.

“That brain of yours is gonna get me killed one of these days, you know that?”

“Nonsense, Padfoot. Your impulsivity would shoot me before my brain got the chance to catch up to you.”

In the distance he heard the great roar of an engine and decided to move down the bank slightly, trying his best to gauge the right vantage point. It was simple enough, if he didn’t think about it too much, so he focused his concentration on the tunnel entrance and the sound of metal and steam against hard tracks. It wasn’t long before a great beast of a locomotive ripped its way through the tunnel entrance, Sirius continued his intense concentration just a moment more because whatever the hell he was about to do was damn dangerous. 

He started to run alongside the train, looking down at the roof from about seven feet up on the bank, and suddenly his body was in motion as he hurled himself down onto the roof. It wasn’t far below the level of the rock, so the drop wasn’t exactly dangerous, what was dangerous was that the thing was moving like hell and if he landed wrong Sirius would roll off and die and- 

_ shut the hell up - _ he hardly had time to think before he hit the dark metal, landing only slightly wrong but still with enough room to scrabble his body back onto the center of the top of the train car. His arms ached, his legs shook, and his heart was somewhere in his throat as he stared up at the sky, sweating heavily and happy to be alive. He stayed put for a moment to collect himself, cursing Mooney and his stupid plan to put him in an early grave, before standing and starting his precarious way along the top of the carriages up toward the engine.

“When this kind of thing is done in the pictures it’s easy as apple pie” the voice of Mooney drifted into his mind.

_ Well, it isn’t easy, you can get killed up there!  _ This thought was very much stuck with him as he wobbled his way gracefully down the train.

He could just about see the engineer and the fireman now. The engineer was fifty and spare, almost a New England type. The fireman was small, but with tremendous arms and shoulders, he looked as though he would speak a lot clearer if he had more teeth. Sirius tucked a stray hair back under his hat and, all too aware of the landscape whizzing by on either side, he quickly dropped down inside the engine with his guns ready. The engineer went taught and without a word started to raise his hands. Sirius thanked the stars that the fireman seemed to be a wuss, he was stuck fast to the engineer's side and was probably all too aware that he was liable to get killed at any time.

“You want it stopped?” the engineer offered.

Sirius nodded, he supposed it made him look tough but he was actually only slightly afraid his voice may not be up to speaking after the stunt he’d just pulled.

“Where?” 

_ Lord almighty,  _ Sirius cleared his throat.

“Here would be fine.” he managed to squeeze out through hoarse vocal chords.

The train started to slow, and Sirius felt his attention drawn to the fireman who looked as though he may finally be gathering the courage to say something. Suddenly the engineer made a quick move for a gun that had been placed down out of the way, but Sirius was on top of him like a shot, grabbing the gun away and chucking it off the side, the grey metal glinting as it flew down a valley. The engineer was panting hard, eyes blown wide and feral. 

“That wasn’t so smart of me.” he breathed

“Not very.”

“I don’t want any trouble”

“It looks that way.”

The engineer started to say something more, decided against it, and turned to work on stopping the train.

Satisfied that he wouldn’t be held up by any more funny business, Sirius leaned his head out the side of the cart. In the distance he saw a tall figure standing in the center of the tracks, head tilted only slightly, ever the exhibitionist. 

“I bet that’s old Mooney himself.” the fireman piped up, sounding far too excited.

Sirius gave him a look which ended up causing the opposite of its desired effect, for the toothless man only spoke up louder and more enthusiastically than before.

“Oh, you wouldn’t remember me, but I worked the Great Northern Express when you hit it near Wagner.” he smiled pink-ly.

“Shut up, Gummy.” the engineer spat back, still thoroughly spooked.

“He ain’t gonna shoot us. Hell, if he was gonna shoot us, he’d a shot us when you tried to shoot him, right, Padfoot?”

Sirius said nothing but allowed himself an amused smirk. The job was nothing if not interesting, he’d have to pick Mooney up on the company he was keeping, fill him in on his fanbase. Looking behind him at the passenger carriages, Sirius could see heads poking out of windows all looking around, trying to see why the train was stopping. Soon, almost an endless line of heads was sticking out. The fireman picked up on their apprehension and yelled out.

“I’d like to tell you it was engine trouble folks, but we’re being held up by The Marauders and Padfoot would like for you to all stay in your seats. So stick your heads in.”

The heads turned to each other, babbling and asking questions.

“Stick your heads in!” the fireman urged again, “stick your heads in…”

All the heads were sticking out like turtles now, babbling and jabbering and getting on Sirius’s nerves. This was a sensitive operation and he’d only recently regained the ability to hear anything that wasn’t the rush of his own blood in his ears. He bristled and lifted his gun, firing sharply at the heads. The bullets were not intended to kill, just to come close, and they do. Very. The heads all disappeared in unison after that, popping back into their carriages, and while the blabbering had stopped, there was still noise filling the air around him. The fireman was absolutely roaring with laughter.

“That sure was a sight, I'm here to tell you.”

Sirius pursed his lips, looking out at Mooney one last time.

“You sure are,” he murmured.

Dropping to the ground, which was blissfully solid and not moving at unimaginable speeds, Sirius started moving along the passenger cars. Behind him, he heard the fireman clambering to the ground. The other members of the gang became visible along the side of the track, some of them standing with guns drawn in the doorways of the passenger cars. The fireman hurried along and fell into step with Sirius, who looked down at the little man for a moment before slowly shaking his head in disbelief.  _ The nerve of this man. _

“Thought I’d watch.” he grinned gummily.

Sirius barked out a laugh at that. 

“Bring the kids why don’t you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter 5 coming soon ! <3


End file.
